


Misery

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Jazz Has No Game, M/M, Pining, Silly Crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am in misery-<br/>Ain’t no body who can comfort me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery

Jazz was always the social butterfly.

Well, moth; if you take into account his odd hours of operation.

Prowl had been moving closer, Smokescreen in tow, living up to his name as he approached the talkative mech as he regaled his friends with his latest ~~disaster~~ mission. He gestured animatedly, punctuating with actions instead of symbols in his speech.

And then he noticed Prowl easily perch upon the table beside him. The friends grinned and watched the new favorite program: Jazz’s Obvious Crush On Prowl.

“An’ so I uh… Ah… hm.”

“Is something wrong Jazz?”, asked Prowl quietly, Smokescreen standing beside him.

“N-nah Prowler just uh… wasn’t expectin’ ranked comp’ny ‘s all.”, laughed Jazz. Everyone knew behind the visor his optic’s were flitting from bumper to waist to hips and back up again, out of control like fireflies.

Prowl nodded, uncrossing his arms and leaning back slightly on his hands. Relaxed, much to everyone’s surprised and Jazz’s suffering.

“No need for ranks at the moment, however. Please, continue with your tales. They are quite… _entertaining._ ”

The shiver over Jazz’s plating was visible at the hum of that final word.

“Ha.. y-yeah, entertainin’.”

Prowl shifted his hips, pretending to not notice Jazz’s grip on his cube tighten exponentially. The cube creaked.

“Yes, I do enjoy a bit of a break from the same old reports over and over again…”, Prowl huffed.

Jazz almost whimpered out loud.

“And honestly, I do tire of all the war jargon I have to _swallow_ just to **UNDERSTAND** half of it. Easy, yes, enjoyable, not really.”

Cliffjumper put his hands together in mock prayer behind Jazz as the Agent shivered.

Prowl tilted his energon just so, a drip spilled over the edge and ran down his servo.

“Prowl, you dripped.”, chimed Smokescreen cheerily, shooting a wicked look at Jazz while Prowl was “distracted”.

“…Oops.”

Prowl set down the cube, and lifted his servo to his lipplates. And licked the drop away.

Jazz’s plating rattled. Loudly.

Prowl perked, “Oh my, look at the time. More stylus-pushing. Have fun with storytime, Jazz, I suppose.”, said Prowl casually, “It’s good for _morale_ , and all.”

Prowl drained his energon, licking his lips like a cat who got the creme. Smokescreen “helpfully” took the empty cube and Prowl pushed off the table, sliding his hips and letting his frame flow with the motion.

Jazz didn’t stand a chance. His visor flickered as he looked to Prowl’s waist, his hips, the slight arc and-

BZZZZKTKSSSSHTCRACK.

The cube in his grip shattered. Sparks spat from behind his visor and his vocalizer shorted out… and he dropped sideways with a whimper against Mirage.

Who then BURST out laughing.

“…Wow.”, said Smokescreen, “Just… wow. That’s impressive.”

“Praxian engineering at its FINEST, youngling.”, said Prowl as they bumped knuckles.

“Wow-wee. Ratchet’s gonna have your head for that.”

“For all Ratchet knows, it was an unfortunate short-circuit due to stress.”

Prowl, now standing, leaned over Jazz and patted his cheek; grinning at the slack jaw.

“Have a good evening, Agent Jazz.”

Jazz groaned, shuddering hard.


End file.
